“She ought to have that satisfaction. From what you tell me, I don't feel very proud of my unknown relatives.”
“Goin' to stay there any length of time?”
“I don't know my own plans yet,” answered Willis Ford, with a glance at the boy. He foresaw a scene when he announced his purpose to leave Herbert in this unpromising place, but he did not wish to anticipate it.
“I suppose Barton is a farmer?” he suggested.
“He pretends to be, but his farm doesn't pay much.”
“What supports them?”
“His wife takes in work from the tailors in the the village. Then they've got a cow, and she makes butter. As for Joel, he brings in precious little money. He might pick up a few dollars hirin' out by the day, if he wasn't so lazy. I had a job for him myself one day, but he knocked off at noon—said he was tuckered out, and wanted me to pay him for that half day. I knew well enough where the money would go, so I told him I wouldn't pay him unless he worked until sunset.”
“Did he do it?”
“Yes, he did; but he grumbled a good deal. When he got his pay he went over to Thompson's saloon, and he didn't leave it until all the money was spent. When his wife heard of it she was mad, and I expect she gave Joel a taste of the broom handle.”
“I wouldn't blame her much.”